de Paul Belce<\/p>\n
\nB\u0103tr\u00e2nul z\u0103cea pe patul de spital, conectat la aparatul de dializ\u0103. Deja sim\u0163ea gheara mor\u0163ii cum \u00eei trece fiori reci de-a lungul \u015firei spin\u0103rii. \u00cencepu s\u0103 respire lini\u015ftit, ca un preludiu la somnul \u00eendelungat ce avea s\u0103 vin\u0103. Imaginile i se derulau prin fa\u0163a ochilor, \u00eentr-un carusel tot mai accelerat. Vedea zorii tulburi ai con\u015ftiin\u0163ei de sine, lumina dup\u0103-amiezii sc\u0103ld\u00e2nd livada de meri, aroma ierbii dup\u0103 ploaie. Retr\u0103ia dulcea familiaritate a chipurilor p\u0103rinte\u015fti aplecate asupra sa, alerga \u015fi visa orizonturi, s\u0103ruta fetele \u00eembujorate cu inima b\u0103t\u00e2nd \u00een piept. Apa memoriei \u00eel ducea \u00eenspre anii de studiu \u015fi priva\u0163iuni, fericirea care-l cuprinsese \u00een fa\u0163a comisiei, ridicat\u0103 spre a-l aplauda. Se v\u0103zu \u00eenconjurat de r\u00e2setele zglobii ale copiilor s\u0103i, un b\u0103iat \u015fi o feti\u0163\u0103, apoi r\u00e2nd pe r\u00e2nd cum \u00ee\u015fi lua r\u0103mas bun de la fiecare, st\u00e2nd \u00een pragul u\u015fii, cu lacrimi \u00een ochi. Urma o lumin\u0103 cald\u0103 de dup\u0103-amiaz\u0103, sc\u0103ld\u00e2nd vechea cas\u0103 cu aroma medicamentelor \u015fi \u00een a c\u0103rei intensitate deslu\u015fea vag contururile lor, al s\u0103u \u015fi ale so\u0163iei, lini\u015ftea insinu\u00e2nd-se \u00een fiecare col\u0163 al camerei. Ultimele imagini ale proiec\u0163iei disp\u0103reau iar \u00een bolnav \u00eencol\u0163ea certitudinea c\u0103 la cap\u0103tul lor va deveni altceva. Totu\u015fi, era de a\u015fteptat ca acele culori \u015fi mirosuri minunate s\u0103 se condenseze \u00eentr-un punct luminos, care s\u0103-i anihileze orice g\u00e2nd. <\/p>\n
Lumina acelei dup\u0103-amiezi trena la nesf\u00e2r\u015fit, \u015fi o nelini\u015fte ciudat\u0103 puse st\u0103p\u00e2nire pe b\u0103tr\u00e2n. Vedea caruselul imaginilor rotindu-se, iar mirarea neformulat\u0103 f\u0103cu loc unei senza\u0163ii de angoas\u0103 c\u00e2nd fu izbit de prezen\u0163a unei pete \u00een col\u0163ul memoriei. Pata \u00eencepu s\u0103 creasc\u0103 p\u00e2n\u0103 ajunse la dimensiunile unui omule\u0163 negru, care chicotea sardonic.<\/p>\n
-Ce vrei? G\u00e2f\u00e2i b\u0103tr\u00e2nul \u00eensp\u0103im\u00e2ntat. Las\u0103-m\u0103 s\u0103 mor!<\/p>\n
Ar\u0103tarea nici nu se clinti, p\u0103r\u00e2nd dimpotriv\u0103 c\u0103 se amuz\u0103 \u015fi mai copios. \u00centr-un final, r\u00e2sul \u00eencet\u0103 \u015fi \u00eei lu\u0103 locul un r\u00e2njet.<\/p>\n
-Nu pot. \u00cemi e\u015fti dator cu o zi.<\/p>\n
-Ce zi? \u00eeng\u0103im\u0103 b\u0103tr\u00e2nul sim\u0163ind c\u0103 \u00ee\u015fi pierde min\u0163ile. Eu\u2026 nu regret nimic… vreau s\u0103 mor\u2026 de ce?…<\/p>\n
\nFigura omule\u0163ului se estompase \u015fi pata neagr\u0103 r\u0103mas\u0103 \u00eencepea s\u0103 sug\u0103 ca un vortex realitatea din jurul ei, capt\u00e2ndu-l \u00een acela\u015fi curent pe b\u0103tr\u00e2n. C\u00e2nd \u00ee\u015fi reveni din le\u015fin, era \u00eentins la marginea p\u0103durii, deasupra unui lac \u015fi privea bolta cereasc\u0103. \u00cen noaptea cald\u0103 p\u00e2lp\u00e2iau stelele \u015fi undeva la orizont fulgerele sf\u00e2\u015fiau dep\u0103rtarea. <\/p>\n
Lunul. \u00cel privea de pe culmea dealului, inund\u00e2nd cu lumina lui rece copacii din jur. \u00cen vidul acela de mii de kilometri se creea senza\u0163ia de putere, ap\u0103sarea care \u00eel fascina \u015fi \u00eel reducea la nivelul unui animal incolor, placid \u015fi viclean. Acolo unde lumina nu mai p\u0103trundea, curgeau curen\u0163i de aer proasp\u0103t \u015fi dens printre brazi, aromele ierburilor \u00eel asaltau la fiecare pas \u015fi-i umpleau pl\u0103m\u00e2nii, mai tari ca orice drog, l\u0103s\u00e2nd memoria ancestral\u0103 s\u0103 domine. Se ridic\u0103 buimac \u015fi \u00eencerc\u0103 s\u0103 r\u0103zbeasc\u0103 la marginea lacului, de unde provenea zgomotul \u015fi lumina care \u00eel treziser\u0103. Orbec\u0103ielile sale deveneau tot mai precise, mersul agil \u015fi furi\u015fat al unui animal, aproape c\u0103 alerga c\u00e2nd \u00eel travers\u0103 o imagine teribil\u0103: iubita lui \u00een bra\u0163ele altui b\u0103rbat, acolo jos, \u00een marea de lumin\u0103 \u015fi sunete. <\/p>\n
Atunci se privi ca trup t\u00e2n\u0103r, arz\u00e2nd. Era o m\u00e2nie cum numai dragostea poate aprinde, nes\u0103buit\u0103, incapabil\u0103 de a lovi fiin\u0163a iubit\u0103, c\u0103ci s-ar fi lovit pe sine. I se \u00eenvolbura \u00een piept \u015fi sf\u0103r\u00e2ma st\u00e2ncile ra\u0163iunii, aduc\u00e2nd noi motive \u00een slujba unei izbucniri ce-o presim\u0163ea devastatoare. \u00cei revedea expresia fe\u0163ei \u00een momentul c\u00e2nd o z\u0103rise, un amestec de durere, furie \u015fi dispre\u0163, privea \u00eent\u00e2lnirea lor dinapoia unor ochi m\u0103ri\u0163i, \u00een t\u0103cere. Atunci deveni con\u015ftient de z\u0103d\u0103rnicia oric\u0103rei ac\u0163iuni. Cu un geam\u0103t, trase aer \u00een piept \u015fi-\u015fi blestem\u0103 soarta: \u201cS\u00e2mb\u0103ta asta e a lui Satan, dar de acum \u00eenainte restul zilelor vor fi ale mele!\u201d.<\/p>\n
B\u0103tr\u00e2nul \u00eencremeni.
\nCon\u015ftiin\u0163a sa murmura un singur g\u00e2nd: \u201cNu mai ai cale de \u00eentoarcere de aici!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u015ei deodat\u0103 toate lucrurile au \u00eenceput s\u0103 danseze: copacii, lacul \u015fi lunul se fug\u0103reau unii pe al\u0163ii, iar el, b\u0103tr\u00e2nul, nu mai era acolo.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
de Paul Belce B\u0103tr\u00e2nul z\u0103cea pe patul de spital, conectat la aparatul de dializ\u0103. Deja sim\u0163ea gheara mor\u0163ii cum \u00eei trece fiori reci de-a lungul \u015firei spin\u0103rii. \u00cencepu s\u0103 respire lini\u015ftit, ca un preludiu la somnul \u00eendelungat ce avea s\u0103 vin\u0103. Imaginile i se derulau prin fa\u0163a ochilor, \u00eentr-un carusel tot mai accelerat. Vedea zorii […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[315,15],"tags":[1132,76,1115],"class_list":["post-1229","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-egophobia-23","category-proza","tag-egophobia-23","tag-paul-belce","tag-proza"],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/s6DakB-pro7","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1229","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=1229"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1229\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":1342,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/1229\/revisions\/1342"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=1229"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=1229"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/egophobia.ro\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=1229"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}